


Honor and Heirs

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ASOIAF kinkmeme.<br/>Lysa/Ned, Lysa thinks her good-brother is a gigantic bore, but her desperation for a healthy child (and looking at her sister's brood) leads her to an awkward attempt at seduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor and Heirs

It would not be so hard to be barren if Cat were not so boundlessly fertile. One, two, three children she had easily and safely borne her husband and now, she had confided, she was expecting a fourth. And Lysa still stared at Robb, wondering and wishing – it was so easy to imagine that he was her own son, with the handsome Tully features that gave no hint of his Stark name. A strong, healthy son who would make any husband proud.

Lysa did not really want Robb Stark for her son, though, she knew. She wanted her own son, so badly that it was a constant ache she’d tolerated for years – since the day she’d discovered that she and her sister would not raise their lord husbands’ heirs as siblings after all. And now Eddard would have a fourth from Cat before Jon had his first from her. Cat made it look so easy. Almost-as-dull-as-Jon Eddard Stark made it look so easy. And yet it was nigh on impossible for Lysa…and Jon.

She wondered, sometimes, if Jon were the problem. The tea of betrayal her father had fed her surely had left its marks, but Jon had never fathered a child who lived in all his years, and yet Eddard had gotten three – and now four – on Cat, despite his many absences in the years since they were married, and that was not even to mention the bastard. Jon’s seed was too weak to take in Lysa’s hostile womb, but Eddard’s was strong. Perhaps even strong enough to give his good-sister the babe she so desperately wanted.

She tried to think back to the conversations she’d had with her elder sister about their marriages, to remember what Cat had said about the best ways to entice her husband. What was it about his wife that appealed to Eddard Stark? Her hair, that was one thing. Well, that was easy enough – Lysa’s hair was much the same color and length, and she was sure that it would be no bother to imitate the northern style whilst she was in Winterfell. And he liked to be addressed familiarly, to be called Ned, which sounded much too friendly for a man like Eddard. In truth, were he not her sister’s husband Lysa would have much preferred to call him Lord Stark. But she could try. What else? She cursed herself for not having listened harder to Cat’s shy confessions about the intimacy of her marriage. At the time she had been too bitter and heartsick over her own marriage to hear it, but it would be useful now to know what Eddard – Ned – found attractive in women.

Certainly firsthand knowledge would have been a better plan than what happened, which was nothing short of an awkward disaster. Cat teased her husband and won his grins; when Lysa tried she managed only to sound mean. Cat laughed and smiled graciously; when Lysa tried she came across hysterical. Cat was perfect and beautiful and bountiful, and Lysa was only a barren shadow. Still she was determined to press on. She had never had, nor had she particularly desired, her good-brother’s good opinion. It would hardly count as a loss to earn his poor opinion, if only disdain came with a babe in her belly.

“Ned,” she said, uncomfortable with the shortened name but striving to sound pleasant as Cat excused herself. Her sister was trying to hide what Lysa recognized as the queasiness that marked the early stages of pregnancy, and it served her purpose if it left her alone with Cat’s husband. “I am sorry my lord husband could not join me in the end. I know you would have liked to see him, but unfortunately the state of court cannot always be predicted.”

“Of course I understand, Lysa. It is not an easy thing, to be king, and it is perhaps an even more trying job to be the Hand. I do not envy Jon the job.” He was polite, but any expression there had been in his face had faded when Cat left the room, and his voice did not invite continued conversation. Lysa, however, would not give up that easily.

“You need not be so humble, Lor – Ned,” she told him. “Cat has told me of how hard you toil up here. It must weigh heavily on you.”

“It is my duty,” he said simply.

“But the cold,” she pointed out, “it makes everything harsher. And the executions, wielding that greatsword yourself each time one of the lowlife crows defects.” Lysa shuddered. “I am sure you are often tired and stressed and in need of relaxation.”

“No more than any other man.” He was not giving her anything here, and Lysa bit back a groan of frustration. Gods, but her good-brother was as dull as the land that bred him.

“My sister worries,” she said finally – and it was not even a lie; Cat had said just the other day that she thought her husband often pushed himself too far! – and at this, he offered the slightest hint of a smile.

“Your sister worries too much, Lysa. Perhaps her worrying would be justified if I did not have her, but I assure you, I am fine.” There it was! There was her opening!

“But you will not have her, Ned, not for many moons, now that she is with child again,” Lysa pointed out – (and really, _again_? Arya is but a year old!) – only to see his face register a strange mix of emotions. There was happiness as well as grief, but overwhelmingly, he looked surprised.

“Catelyn is pregnant?” he asked, and Lysa nodded, torn between guilt at having been the one to relay the news to Eddard and elation at the fact that her sister had actually told _her_ something before him.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I am sorry, Ned; I did not know that you were unaware. She is not very far along. Likely she meant not to tell you until she is more sure the babe is safe.” He nodded, and Lysa decided to press her advantage by reiterating her earlier comment.

“So you will have to do without her for a time, and then we will all have the right of it when we worry about you,” she said, placing her hand a little bit above her good brother’s knee. He looked at her in shock and perplexity.

“Lysa,” he said slowly, “if you are getting at what I think you are, Maester Luwin has assured Cat several times that she need not worry.” He looked down at her hand on his thigh and carefully but firmly removed it. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“I will not tell Jon, Lady Arryn, but I must ask that you never again intimate such things.” Lysa felt near ready to die from shame, but she stood her ground. _You do not really care what he thinks of you._

“Seven years we have been married,” she said, looking down, “and I still have not borne Jon an heir. Nor did Jeyne, nor Rowena. I fear…I fear I must look elsewhere if I am to secure the Eyrie.”

“And you would look to me, your sister’s husband, your husband’s one-time ward?” he asked harshly. “You would ask me to betray them both?”

“You have given three healthy children to my sister.” Lysa replied softly, but she held his gaze. “And she increases again now, and there is your bastard. You have proven that you can father babes, even on Tully women, and I…” She closed her eyes. “I need a child.”

“I would not have Jon Arryn raise a bastard as his heir. He was always like a father to me – and more so now, that my own lord father is dead.”

“Yes, and he loves you like a son, Ned. He would love your bastard like his own son. Do you not think that love is more important than blood?” Ned bit his lip. In truth, Jon Arryn had likely given up on having his own, trueborn heir, and he might _not_ mind raising Ned’s son as his own. But…

“I would not betray my lady wife.”

“No, not again, I suppose. But Cat and I are sisters, and we look very much alike. If you take me from behind you might imagine I am she.” Lysa paused for a moment before adding, “You can call me by her name, if you want. I don’t mind. Only please, please get a child on me, a healthy child like the three you gave my sister.” The heartbreak in her voice and tears stinging her eyes hurt Ned more than he had anticipated. It was true that Lysa Arryn had miscarried and delivered stillbirths several times, but she was a young woman and Jon Arryn older than her father, married twice before and now again for years, but still heirless. Catelyn had certainly had no difficulty delivering healthy babes. Even the late Lady Tully, who died in childbed, had borne three who remained healthy to this day. There was no real reason that Lysa should be any different. Perhaps it would be a kindness he could do for his good sister and Jon, too.

“It would be a lie, Lysa. I cannot do you that dishonor, nor Jon Arryn, nor Catelyn.” Ned was quiet for a moment, adding gently, “You are young. I know you have not yet borne a healthy babe, but at four-and-twenty you still ought to have many years yet. Give it time.”

“You’re no help,” she whispered, tears streaming freely down her face. “You just do not understand.”

Lysa Arryn never spoke another word to her good brother for the rest of his life.


End file.
